Trik - Betrayal in Rule

Their clothes were dry by the time they reached the foot of the first mountain of the Stormdrake Mountains. The mountain towered above them, its lower slope carpeted by a pine forest. The sun was low in the west, and the shadows of the trees stretched long.

The sun descended as they climbed, and soon it was dark. They halted at a high rocky point in the pine forest. The moon was bright in the sky above them, and its light illuminated the mountainside. In the distance a small vein of smoke spiraled above the trees.

“What are you looking at?” asked Durben.

“Come,” said Trik, stepping into the pine trees before them.

“You’re so secretive,” said Durben, following Trik. “I wish you would just tell me.”

They approached a clearing in the pine forest. In the center of the clearing stood a small wood cabin with smoke rising from its chimney. A stack of chopped wood leaned against the cabin, and nearby an axe lay on a tree stump.

“There is something I don’t like about this place,” said Durben. “There is a strange feeling in the air here. A sort of heaviness.”

“I feel it too,” said Trik.

Durben gave Trik a troubled look. “What are we doing here?” he asked. “You said you knew someone who could help us.”

“So I did,” said Trik, “and so he will.” He knocked loudly on the cabin’s front door.

For some time, there was no answer, but then footsteps could be heard inside. The door creaked open, and a man with a thick gray beard peered out at them. He wore leather sandals and a long black robe. His fingernails had not been trimmed and hung well past his fingertips. “You again,” he said gruffly, and he scowled.

“Mage Nob,” said Trik. “This is Lord Durben, Baron Linden’s son.”

“Go away,” said Nob. He backed into the cabin and began to shut the door.

Trik grabbed the door. “Nob,” he said. “I need your help, and you know well that you owe me.”

“There is no magic,” said Nob. “I can’t help you.” He walked to the fireplace inside the cabin. The fire roared in the fireplace, filling the cabin with golden light. There was a chair before the fireplace and a shelf beside it covered with many books. He sat in the chair. “What do you want?”

Trik stepped into the cabin with Durben close behind him. “A long time ago,” said Trik, “I saved your life. That day you promised me your aid, should I ever need it.”

“That was long ago,” said Nob, picking up a book from the shelf beside him. He opened it and pretended to read from it.

“The time has come,” said Trik. He closed the door behind Durben. “This is Baron Linden’s son.”

Nob looked up from his book. “I don’t care if he is the Emperor’s son,” said Nob. “I did not ask for your company, and you are not welcome here.”

“Nob,” growled Trik. “Duke Mortimer’s men are in the city.”

“Is that so?” said Nob, sarcastically.

“You know as well as I do that Mortimer wants the throne,” said Trik. “Ever since Prince Rodorick became emperor, he has sought it.”

“He’ll get it too, no doubt,” said Nob.

Trik’s expression hardened. “If the Emperor dies,” said Trik, “there will be a civil war in the Empire. Thousands will perish.”

“Let them,” said Nob.

“You were once the Emperor’s mage,” said Trik. “Were you not sworn to protect the Empire?”

Nob shook his heavy bearded head. “The Emperor has no need for magic any more,” said Nob. “The practice of the Old Art is dying. I am the last mage. When I die, magic will die with me.”

“You have become truly terrible in your old age,” said Trik, “and to think I once counted you among my friends.” He looked over his shoulder at Durben. “He’ll be no aid, this one. He hasn’t the power.”

Nob placed his book on the shelf beside him. “What did you come to ask?” he said.

Trik turned slowly to face Nob. “We need disguises,” he said. “The city is under duress. There is no way to enter as we are.”

“Disguises,” said Nob. “That’s it.” He laughed. “Yes, I believe I can do that.” He got to his feet. “Come this way,” he said.

“And a room for the night,” said Trik.

“You’re pushing your luck,” said Nob. “If I relent, what will you ask of me next?”

“Nob,” said Trik. “You owe me that at least.”

“One night,” said Nob. “In the morning, I will disguise you. Then you will leave, and never return.”

“You have my word,” said Trik.

Nob led Trik and Durben to a ladder leaning against the wall in the back of the cabin. Nob turned a handle and dropped a door to a loft above the room. “You will rest here,” said Nob. “There are blankets and hay. It is warmed by the fire.”

“It will do,” said Trik.

Trik climbed the ladder to the loft. There were blankets set upon the hard timbers, but the ceiling was low and damp. Durben joined him in the loft.

“Your friend is a mad man,” whispered Durben.

“Perhaps,” said Trik, “but he will help us.”